Over the past two weeks, it seems like we’ve been launched into the 1950s all over again. The recent outbreak of protests throughout universities, and death threats against people of color, seems too surreal to be true, and feels like we’re regressing backwards in time.
On November 9, there were racist death threats and violence directed towards people of color at the University of Missouri. It started with multiple threats on Yik Yak, with one saying: “I’m going to stand my ground tomorrow and shoot every black person I see.” With this came other events, like drunk white kids interrupting a Legion of Black Students meeting by yelling racial slurs, another group yelling racial slurs at the student body president, and multiple anti-Semitic defilements of property seen around campus.
About a week before, there were allegations against a fraternity at Yale that claimed they turned black women away because the Halloween party was “for white girls only.” Racial tensions at Yale University had been escalating for a long while, but it seemed that this was the breaking point. Shortly after, there was an uproar in protests, with students claiming that “they weren’t surprised” about what’s happening—implying the racial tension on campus isn’t new.
Most recently Dartmouth’s Black Lives Matter protest held in their central library ended in disruption and verbal harassment, alongside some student allegations of physical assault. Across the United States, colleges have stood with Yale and Missouri by holding protests and sit-ins. Mount Holyoke held a sit-in in Blanchard Campus Center last Thursday (November 12). Students from around the college stood or sat in solidarity with their peers, protesting the events that have been happening across college campuses over the span of a couple of weeks.
On November 18, I was a witness to the stories told at Mount Holyoke’s walkout, which started at 12pm in front of the library. The walkout then moved to Kendade, where the atrium was packed with people of color and allies, joined together to protest against racial discrimination and violence. Here, people of color from around campus shared their stories of intersectionality and what it’s like to be black, black and poor, black and queer, black, queer, and poor. The protest was to stand in solidarity with Mizzou, Yale (our brother school), Dartmouth, and any other university experiencing racial tension—which is all. The emotional stories that were told were not just stories, they were lived realities. Speakers voiced their concerns about the fact that allies aren’t actively educating themselves, which leads to people of color having to constantly explain recent events, and why they are angry, scared, and frustrated. This is exhausting. It is equally as exhausting to try to express how serious the issue of personal safety is, as people of color fear for their lives when they walk outside and constantly fear for family members. However, many protesters, police officers, and others around them don’t see this as a serious issue, but in fact, make people of color feel more unsafe.
Some people talked about how when they were growing up, they had to be given “the black talk.” This addressed the precautions and preventative measures they have to take when in public to try to keep themselves safe. After hearing this the room went silent, as the reality that white people truly don’t understand the great lengths people of color’s families have to go through to avoid being targeted. Many allies don’t think twice about this, because it isn’t plastered over the news, but with the amount of agreement in the audience it was clear that the speakers weren’t the only people who got the “black talk.” For people of color, the theme throughout the stories was clear: a lot of the time, students of colour don’t feel safe, or feel like they’re “tired of explaining” things to their white allies. After the protest, I was able to talk to some of the students who spoke. I asked what was going through one of the student’s minds during the protest. Her response was, “growing up, I didn’t realise how much of a struggle it was to be black until a girl that was darker than me told me ‘The only reason why you’re light skinned is because your ancestors got raped by slave owners.’ ” After this, it took “a while to love my skin for all that it is. I know that all odds are against me because I am black.” For many students like this one, she feels these protests are an expression of their need for closure and to move forward. In order to move forward both people of color and white people need to push equality forward.
For white people who stand with their peers, it is just as much our responsibility to educate ourselves on the issues our friends and classmates deal with. It is also important to recognise that “people will never understand the struggle a black woman faces everyday.” I think as white people, our sole duty is to know when to stand in silence and when to speak up.
For a while, I was always unsure of when to speak up or when to be silent. I always leaned towards being more cautious, so I would be silent, and listened to what people had to say. I, like many allies, have stayed silent in attempt to respect the real struggle people of color face on a daily basis. But truly, we won’t ever truly know what people of color struggle with.
When I was listening to the stories, I was surprised to hear that there is a time for allies to speak out. One student phrased it by saying: “Unfortunately, the reality is, [allies] have the power. If you’re hearing some ignorant shit, call them out on it…take this and run with it, because your voice matters.”
While it is important that white people do the best to prevent racism, we can’t expect to know the oppression and daily struggle people of color face, nor can we say that we do. The most impactful thing white people, as allies, can do at this time at Mount Holyoke, and everywhere in the world, is to relay the stories told, to stand up for your fellow peers, and to call out those who are hateful and racist.